[At the home of Mr Fox and his Son early Monday morning]

The SOCO team was assembled for a briefing. More than a few were yawning. It was not yet 06:00.

“I want this place taken apart. Every nook and cranny. Check the walls and under the floors. Who knows… there could even be secret rooms,” said Detective Chief Inspector Clive Pascoe.

He had been appointed as Senior Investigative Officer (SIO) for the crime scene by the Chief Constable herself, now that Fox and his son were in custody. That name alone would send a message to everyone at the house. There would be no messing around if he could help it.

“Given the obvious importance of this property for the Chief Constable herself to lead the raid and arrest, I have one order. Do it by the book. No cutting corners or else. Everyone is to be double-gloved. I don’t want any DNA contamination that could come back and bite us at trial.”

His voice wavered. This wasn’t the first SIO role that he’d had, but the enormity of it was just sinking in.

The two SOCO teams were all that the force possessed, but those were the orders of the Chief, so he wasn’t going to argue. It was a mess because he had only found out about the operation after the two suspects had been arrested and carted off to God knows where in London. He did not like the ‘need to know’ policy that had been the first item in the briefing he’d received over an early breakfast meeting with the Chief.

It was only after that briefing from the Chief Constable herself had concluded that DCI Pascoe began to understand the ramifications of what had gone on at the house. The mention of possible serving Police officers being part of what had been going on made him sick to his stomach.

The DCI came out of the meeting determined to make his part of the operation a success. He’d begun to understand the need to keep the lid on this investigation for as long as possible. As SIO, it was his job to manage the work of the specialists who were doing the hard work.

As he spoke, he began to get into his stride. After a fairly nervous start, his confidence rose.

“As I said, I want everything you do here done by the book. The Chief Constable herself impressed on me that very thing earlier. The resident of the property is a top London Barrister. He’s facing charges of unlawful imprisonment of two children and sex trafficking, to name a few. Neither I, nor the Chief want any evidence thrown out on a technicality. Bag, tag and catalogue everything. I want double signatures on the evidence bags, plus photographic evidence of each record. Don’t forget to include the timestamp and detailed location on every bag. If you don’t, then DS Jacobsen will be after you, and her bite is worse than her bark, as I am sure that you already know. Does everyone understand the rules?”

No one objected, so he carried on.

“Team 1, you are responsible for the cellar. That is where I think that we’ll find the most evidence. From what I have been told by the entry team, two young girls were being held captive there and made to perform oral and anal sex to a variety of males. DNA will be everywhere, so do your best to obtain clean samples, but if you can’t, then… just do your best. Plus, there is a room that contains a lot of sensitive crime data from the boys in the Met. Some of the photos in that room are not for the faint-hearted. We should treat the cellar as two separate crime scenes. One for that room and one for the rest of the cellar. Everything, and I mean everything in that room has to be photographed before bagging and tagging and is to be kept separate from the other evidence. Those are the orders of the chief herself.”
He took a breath before continuing.

“I have it on good authority that there is a leak in the team where those records originate. We need to play our part in finding out who it is, but that is of secondary importance to the cells and the rest of the cellar. As I said, there may well be DNA from the people who abused the two girls. One of them has been captive for two years, but we know that the place has been used for abuse for well over ten years. The last thing we need is evidence being ruled inadmissible when it comes to trial, so take your time, do it right and don’t cut corners. Those are the orders from the Chief Constable herself. She was here as SIO for the arrest and rescue of the latest victims last night, which I am sure is a sign of just how important the job that each and every one of you will do here is.”

“For the team in the cellar, there are, according to the Chief, two officers down there waiting for us. They are guarding some critical evidence. The SOCO team’s first job is to take ownership of that evidence and get it sent off for priority processing. The chief hopes that it may identify at least one of the people who came here just a few days ago and sexually abused two children.”

“The team covering the rest of the house start at the top and work down. We know that the owner of the house loved to take videos of the abuse. There has to be a place that contains at least one set of equipment for recording those acts of depravity. That location needs to be found. When it is, secure it and call in the electronics techs. We have no idea if the devices are booby-trapped. We don’t want the first attempt at accessing it to self-destruct. This is not ‘Mission Impossible’, but it is close.”

His attempt at a joke fell flat on its face.

“Finally, if you run into any issues, do not hesitate to come in search of me or my replacement. Do everything by the book and take your time. We, as in the Chief herself and myself, do not want any evidence, no matter how small, to be ruled as inadmissible when we come to trial.”

There were several groans from the team. The DCI took this as a good sign.

“The leak may well have left DNA or Fingerprint evidence on the items in that room. It would be nice for the Chief to get one over on the prima-donnas in the Met or, even better, the NCA.”

“Team 2, the rest of the house is yours, apart from the lock on the cellar door and the front door. We had some assistance that allowed us to make a silent entry into the house. That help came from an informant. The Chief’s orders are to keep the identity of the informant out of the records, and that includes DNA and fingerprints, although I have it on good authority that this person wore gloves, but we are to take no chances.”

Then, he addressed four uniformed constables.

“The rest of you, once it gets properly light, I want a search of the grounds. Mark anything even remotely suspicious, and we will get SOCO to look at it when they have finished with the house. Don’t be afraid of failing. It is better for something to be ruled out than we were to miss something important. If you have doubts, do not hesitate to come to me and ask. I will not bite even for stupid questions. We must not miss anything important or not. Those are the orders from the Chief herself.”

The DCI took a deep breath.
“Any final questions?”

No one said a word.
“Good. Go to it. I’ll be in the mobile command centre, provided the transport people can get it up the drive. Take your time. There will be food and drink on tap in an hour, so take regular breaks. The mobile loos should be here around 09:30. I cannot impress on you enough just how much the Chief wants this done properly. DS Jacobsen will be collating all the evidence into the record. Don’t wait until you are done to give her everything. Take regular breaks and give her something to do while you get some air.”

There were no more questions.
“Ok, get to work people. I’m available for any questions or help.”

With the teams going about their tasks, the DCI was at something of a loose end until the evidence started to be processed. He’d rambled a bit and repeated himself in his attempt to make sure that he’d missed nothing of importance in his briefing. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best that he could do under the circumstances.

Until the evidence came in, he was at a bit of a loose end.

He looked down at his mud-splattered shoes. For a man who prided himself on his appearance, he scolded himself for not wearing boots for the operation. He went outside, sat in his car and was about to take his shoes off and give them a clean when one of the SOCO team came running out of the house and made straight for the DCI. The rest of the SOCO team followed suit, carrying armfuls of evidence bags. They all headed for the command centre to deposit the evidence into the record. It seemed that the house was being evacuated. The SOCO teams had been at work for less than five minutes.

DCI Pascoe waited for one of the SOCO leads to tell him what was going on. He knew from past operations not to get in their way. The lead of the team working in the cellar came to him, and breathing heavily, he said,

“Sir, we need the Bomb Squad. We have discovered a whole load of explosives down in the cellar that appear to be connected to a mobile phone.

The DCI’s day just went from crazy to diabolical.
“How do you know that it is viable explosive material?”

“Sir, I did two tours of Northern Ireland with the Home Office forensic teams in the early 2000s. We still had bombs from IRA splinter groups to deal with. The explosive here is marked just like the sort of thing we encountered over there.”

The DCI thought for a moment. All he could think of was the reams of paperwork that he’d have to fill out if the place went up. After pushing that out of his mind, he said,

“Get everyone out of the house and the area around it quickly and quietly. Please, don’t let anyone panic,” said the DCI.

“Make sure that currently all bagged evidence is carried out with them and logged. Then, get it all taken back to HQ. According to the Chief, there should be a storage area in the evidence room cleared for this operation.”

“Yes, Sir,” said the SOCO officer.

The officer hesitated.

“Good god, man. Do you want to risk the place going up with everyone inside!”

The SOCO officer disappeared back into the house.

The DCI got on the Radio.
“This is DCI Pascoe. Patch me through to the Chief Super on a secure line.”

“Roger DCI Pascoe,” said the operator.
The DCI made a mental note to have a word with the Sergeant who controlled the Radio Operators. ‘Roger’ was not standard operating procedure for the Hertfordshire force.

“Chief Superintendent Monaghan.”

“DCI Pascoe here Sir. We need the bomb disposal people. The SOCO team has found a load of explosives wired to blow at our crime scene. I have organised the evacuation of the building. As per protocol, I will get everyone back 100m.”

“I will make the call. Thanks for the heads up. The Chief Constable will not be happy,” said the Chief Super.

He ended the call and waited. Almost fifteen minutes went by before the Chief Super called him back.

“The MOD Bomb Squad people are reporting that it will take at least an hour to get from Chelmsford, so stay patient but keep alert DCI,” said the Chief Super.

“I will, sir.”

“Good. Now, get everyone well away from the building.”

“Yessir.”
It had already been done. Now, it was time for him to get control of the scene and hope that the house didn’t blow up before the specialists arrived.

DCI Pascoe left the command centre and took control of the melee that was going on outside.

“Everyone back at least 100 metres. Get all your vehicles out of the drive, but leave room for the Bomb Disposal Team to get to the house.”

“Sir,” said one of the officers.

“Yes. What is it?”

“The team you detailed to search the grounds.”

The DCI had forgotten all about them.
“I will alert them. Now, get you and your vehicles well off the property. At least 100 metres away, but don’t block access for the Bomb Squad.”
He’d just said that, but it would not help to remind them how important access was to the Bomb Disposal Team.

“Yessir.”

With a sigh, the DCI went in search of the officers who were searching the grounds.

Once the property and all the adjoining ones had been evacuated, the DCI had to manage the twenty-odd SOCO officers while they waited for the Army team to arrive.

His last order was for the already collected evidence to be sent to Police HQ for processing. He didn’t want to risk what little had been collected being blown up. A Police Van with that evidence left the scene a few minutes later.

[At a Police Station in Central London]

“Where is my brief?” shouted Jonathon Fox for at least the twentieth time.
He was complaining to the Custody Officer.

“Mr Fox, you made the call when the custody Sergeant booked you in. From what he told me, your brief said that he would be here in two hours as he was about to appear in court on a remand case. That time has not yet expired,” said the Sergeant who was supervising the detention and questioning of the two prisoners.

“I’m not saying a word until I have had access to my brief.”

“That is your right. The clock regarding your immediate detention will start once you have had an opportunity to obtain legal advice, as is the law, which you know very well.”

“In the meantime, can I offer you some water?”

Fox glared at the sergeant. The loathing he had for the officer was clear for all to see. The Sergeant had seen it all before and ignored the prisoner.

Twenty minutes later, the phone rang. It was answered by the Sergeant.
“Yes, this is he.”

“He has. Good. Send him through.”
After putting the phone down, he addressed the prisoner.

“Good news, Mr Fox, your legal representative has arrived. When he arrives, I will leave the two of you alone to confer. Knock on the door when you are done. Then I’ll get you moved to the interview room.”

Mr Fox glared at the Sergeant once more. He knew the process and also knew that the Custody Sergeant was doing everything by the book just to make doubly sure that Mr Fox could not wriggle out of any charges on a technicality.

“Remember, knock on the door when you have finished conferring,” said the Sergeant.

He left Mr Fox and his lawyer, a pale-faced man who was wearing a 3-piece suit, complete with a pocket watch and went by the name of Mr J.G. Reeder.

“Where is your phone?” demanded Mr Fox almost as soon as the door had closed behind the Sergeant.

“Why? Who are you calling?”

“Give me your phone. I want to send a text.”

Reluctantly, Mr Reeder handed over his phone.
Mr Fox quickly composed a text message and hit ‘send’. Then, he waited for the word ‘delivered’ to appear. After almost five minutes, he lost his temper.

He threw the lawyer’s phone against the wall.
“Fuck!”

The lawyer went to retrieve his phone. The screen was cracked in several places. The lawyer shook his head and began to pack his briefcase.
“What the fuck are you doing?” demanded Fox.

“Mr Fox, I am going to have to withdraw my services. I cannot sit by and watch you destroy my property for no good reason.”

Mr Reeder stood up, and after gathering his belongings, he knocked on the door.

“I’m done with Mr Fox. I can no longer represent him.”

The Sergeant resisted smiling. His eyes were fixated on the damaged phone.

“Please come with me, Mr Reeder. Mr Fox, I will arrange for a duty solicitor to attend as soon as possible. Do you have anyone in mind with you being a Barrister and all that? If you don’t have anyone, then I’ll call in the duty solicitor. As you know, this is all according to the rules of custody,” asked the Sergeant.

“Fiona Markham. Give her a call. She was a pupil of mine when I was a full-time Barrister. Her number should be in the Legal Aid directory… and make it sharpish.”

After closing the door to the cell where Mr Fox was being held, the Sergeant asked Mr Reeder,
“Did he wreck your phone?” asked the office as he noticed the damaged phone.

“He did, and I only bought it last week.”

“If you don’t mind me asking… now that you are not representing him, why?”

“He sent a text, and from his reaction, I don’t think that it was delivered.”

“Can I see the number?”

Mr Reeder thought for a moment. Then he nodded his head.
“I don’t see why not, as I am no longer his legal representative.”

Mr Reeder showed the Sergeant the text on his phone.

The Sergeant thought for a few seconds before saying,
“Normally, I would take steps to obtain a warrant to impound the phone as evidence, but I know that there could be client confidential data on it. How about I take a photo of just the message and the number? I’ll get it printed, and then you can sign the print stating when, why and how the damage was obtained. That way, there can be no breach of confidentiality concerning your other clients, but please do not delete the message. We may need it as evidence later, but a judge will make the appropriate order to guarantee the safety of your client data should that happen.”

“Sergeant, you must have read my mind.”

Once the photos had been taken, printed, authenticated, and Mr Reeder shown from the building, the Sergeant made a call to the DCI, who would have been interviewing Mr Fox when he’d finished his initial discussion with his legal representative.

“Sir, the elder Fox tried to send a text using his lawyers’ phone. When it didn’t go through, he wrecked the phone. I have a photo of the message and the number that he tried to send it to. The photo was authenticated by the lawyer who withdrew from representing him because of the incident.”

“I’m on my way as soon as I get someone to relieve me. I can’t leave the prisoners alone.”

Then and only then did the Custody Officer begin the search for Mr Fox’s next legal advisor, Fiona Markham. As he had not had the chance to confer with a legal representative, the clock on his detention had not yet started. At the moment, he was still in the ‘helping police with their enquiries’ stage. Only when it was decided to charge him and or his son, would they be formally processed and their fingerprints taken.

[back at the home of Mr Fox]

Thanks to traffic delays, it was almost two hours after the initial call before three Army vehicles arrived on the scene. DCI Pascoe made himself known to their CO, Major Schneider.

“According to my SOCO team, there is a potential bomb in the cellar. It is located under the stairs and has a mobile phone attached. My guys took one look at it and made a hasty retreat. As per SOP, I moved everyone back at least 100m and had all the adjacent properties evacuated. It is all yours, but please be careful. This is an active crime scene. There are cells in the cellar that, until a few hours ago, held two young women captive and sexually abused... I am sure that you can see why we don’t want this place to explode. There is a huge amount of possibly vital evidence relating to sex trafficking, child abuse and a gang of serial rapers.”

The Major swore under his breath.
“Thanks for the heads-up, DCI Pascoe. I will make sure that my team will only use a controlled explosion if there is no other option. We have protective blankets, but they can only do so much.”

“Thank you, Major.”

The DCI stood back and let the Army do their thing. He admired the team. From WW2 bombs to modern-day sophisticated IEDs, they tackled everything and anything. Once again, his mode of operation was to let the professionals do their job. Being an interfering busybody would not make things go quicker.

It was more than an hour later before the ‘all clear’ was given. The Army team carried out a box that contained more than 20kg of explosives.

Major Schneider came to the DCI to report.
“We were very lucky. There was a mobile phone trigger, but thanks to a leaking pipe, the circuit to the power supply for the phone shorted out, and the phone battery went dead. We bagged up the phone and all the non-explosive items and left them in the cellar. We will take the nasty stuff to our labs in Chelmsford and check it for prints. The MPs will supervise this operation and will send you the results in a few days.”

“Thank you, Major. It does seem that we got lucky. Out of interest, could you estimate what sort of damage that amount of explosive would have done to the property?”

The Major smiled.
“The house and anyone in it would have been obliterated, but thanks to that leaking pipe, you still have all the evidence intact. The person or persons who planted the device knew where it would do the most damage from a structural point of view. Any occupants of those cells would have been incinerated to dust and therefore almost unidentifiable.”

DCI Pascoe breathed a very visible sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Major. I know that the powers that be will be mighty relieved that the house is safe. Some very nasty people lived here.”

“That I can concur with. Keeping young women prisoner and abusing them is way beyond the pale. Get the evidence to convict them, and you will make my team very happy.”

He watched the Army team pack up and disappear into the gathering dusk. It was time to make a decision.

The DCI moved away from the house and made a call to the Chief Super.
“Sir, I’ve just had the all-clear from the Bomb Disposal people. But, given the time of day, I’d like to stand down the SOCO teams until tomorrow. Fresh eyes and all that.”

“Yes, sir. I will make sure that the property is guarded. The last thing we want is for the media to get inside. They have been sniffing around all afternoon. They followed the Army people to the scene. Their vehicles are hardly inconspicuous.”

“Thank you, sir. I take it that you will inform the Chief and anyone else who needs to know?”

“Right. I’ll tell the troops.”

DCI Pascoe went to where the SOCO teams had gathered.

“I have spoken to the Chief Super, and he has permitted you to delay the continuation of the SOCO exam until 08:00 tomorrow. Then we can crack on tomorrow with fresh eyes and bodies.”

None of the SOCO team objected, and they all headed off towards their vehicles. That left the small group of uniformed officers.
“Sadly, it falls to us to secure the building until the morning. Constable Simpson, can you take some food orders? We will all need something to eat.”

“Sir?” said one of the officers.
“Yes… Constable Fraser, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir. I have to get home. My wife works nights at the Hospital in Stevenage, and I need to be there to look after our one-year-old.”

“Good point, Constable. I think that we can manage with the four of us for the time being. I will arrange with HQ to send a couple of reinforcements ASAP.”

At 08:00 the next morning, a slightly weary DCI, Pascoe, addressed the SOCO and search teams once again.

“Just as yesterday, take your time and don’t miss anything. A conviction could turn into an acquittal if you miss something vital. Go to it, teams.”

The teams went off to resume their search.

[At the home of Mr Fox, late morning]

“Sir,” said one of the uniformed officers who had been searching the grounds.

DCI Pascoe looked up from the evidence file that he’d been examining. He had been wondering how long it would take him to write up his ‘Scenes of Crime Report’ when this was all over. With every passing minute, the time to complete seemed to extend by not one or two minutes but more like ten.

“Yes, Constable Packer?”

“Sir, we have discovered two suspicious areas on the far side of the garden.”

“Suspicious? In what way?”

“Sir… They might be graves. They are that shape but not the size of an adult.”
The four words, ‘they might be graves’ sent a shiver down the spine of DCI Pascoe. He’d never encountered a crime scene like this before, and at that moment, he hoped that he’d never have one like it again.